


Love the Way You Make It Sound

by Meadow Lion (Meadow_Lion)



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon LGBTQ Male Character, Drama, Episode Related, Erotica, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Physical Disability, Romance, Sexual Fantasy, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-23
Updated: 2007-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meadow_Lion/pseuds/Meadow%20Lion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not for lack of imagination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love the Way You Make It Sound

**Author's Note:**

> This story includes spoilers through the end of November, 2007; any resemblance of events or dialogue in the story to that in later episodes was coincidental, not intentionally spoilery (nor copied). I opted to try to align the timeline/process for Luke's recovery with its canon portrayal, which is not so much equivalent to reality. [](http://oddnumbereven.livejournal.com/profile)[**oddnumbereven**](http://oddnumbereven.livejournal.com/) and [](http://lunasky.livejournal.com/profile)[**lunasky**](http://lunasky.livejournal.com/) were both fantastic betas who brought this into sharper focus, and [](http://trascendenza.livejournal.com/profile)[**trascendenza**](http://trascendenza.livejournal.com/) gets love for enthusiastic audiencing. Blame me for any mistakes. Blue October's "[Calling You](http://www.pcplanets.com/lyrics-text-44292-.shtml)" gave the story its title.

_You shouldn't be nervous. He's your boyfriend,_ Luke thinks and punches at the pillow supporting his back. _Just do it._

He has to repeat the last part twice aloud, like some inane sports commercial, before he finally hits the call button on his phone.

After the second ring, Noah answers, in a voice rough with sleep that vibrates down what Luke can feel of his spine. "Luke? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm good. I'm fine." Luke is glad that, since the shooting, he's been staying in a room downstairs. Although the rest of his family is all long since asleep, his own bedroom light is off, and he speaks quietly. "I just wondered if there was anything you wanted to talk about."

"Um, it's two o'clock in the morning. I'm coming back over to the house during actual daylight. Can't we talk then?"

"Of course, yes, but I thought now would be better. We kept getting interrupted earlier, with your friends in Old Town and my stupidity over how you introduced me, and then the craziness of my family --"

"Your family is great," Noah interjects.

Luke winces at the awkwardness. "I'm sorry. Look, this isn't how I meant this to go. I'm saying everything wrong, and I should just hang up. I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"

"Wait, don't go. You're not doing anything wrong. Like I told you, you're stuck with me."

Words burst out before Luke can stop them. "I wish I could be there holding you right now."

"I wish you could, too."

"If I were," Luke says, swallowing, "what else would you like to do?"

There's an extended pause. "Luke, is this why you called? Are you --?"

"Yes. That's one of the reasons. I was thinking about something you said the other day."

"At the station?"

"Then, too, but I mean before that. You told me I was being unimaginative about how we could be together, and then your phone rang, and I had an idea. Is your roommate at his girlfriend's dorm again?"

"As usual, yeah. So, you're saying you want to . . . "

"I want to hear your voice." Luke leans back against the pillow. "I want you to get off and me to --"

"To what? It won't be the same for you as for me," Noah comments neutrally.

"I'm willing to try anyway. You've been pushing me not to give up on possibilities for the future. I want to explore this possibility in the meantime."

"And you're sure you're up for it." The hint of excitement under Noah's words eases a tightness Luke hasn't been acknowledging in his chest.

He ignores the obvious joke he could make and counters, "Let me worry about that. You worry about whether you can actually visualize us having sex right now."

"Are you kidding?" Noah then says more softly, "Trust me. I may not be familiar with all the specifics yet, but I imagine it in pretty amazing detail. A lot."

The phone drops from Luke's hand. Cradling it between his shoulder and ear, he smiles. "You're supposed to. Tell me what you see."

"It doesn't seem fair to either of us like this, when you aren't --"

"Then I'll start, because you turn me on, and I'm going to do something about it." Into the silence that follows, Luke adds, "I wanted to, the first time I was in your arms."

"Have you done this before?"

"Had phone sex? Nope," Luke says. "You?"

"I tried, once, with a girl three years ago. I wasn't very good at it. Neither of us even . . . we didn't finish the conversation."

Luke tells himself he doesn't need to eradicate some random girl from Noah's past. _Really._ "Maybe you just need better inspiration."

He can hear Noah's smile. "Don't get cocky."

The syllables divide, Luke's mind conjuring the shape of Noah's lips around that last word, round and firm at once. He whispers, "Say that again."

"What? Don't get . . . um." Noah falters. "Cocky."

It's a good thing they aren't together in person, or the noise Luke makes would be even more embarrassing. But that word. Coming from Noah's _mouth_. Luke's brain is short-circuiting. "Noah --"

"Luke, I, I'm sorry. I don't think I'm ready for this, to do it like this." And Noah's voice becomes the dial tone.

Luke pulls away the phone and stares at it, at the display that fades from glowing to pitch black in seconds, and then turns it off. He grasps the mattress so he can work his way to a more prone position, but doesn't kid himself. Sleep, like everything else, may be a long time coming.

~*~*~

"Hi," Luke says, inviting Noah into the house after class the next day. "I tried to call."

"I know." Noah is getting himself a glass of cola, draping his jacket over a kitchen chair, doing nothing that involves looking at or touching Luke yet.

Luke tries to catch Noah's arm but misses. He rests his hand on the nearby jacket instead, leftover warmth from Noah's body suffusing his fingers. "No, I mean, this afternoon."

Noah shrugs. "Left my phone at home."

"Oh." Luke has learned that when Noah tries to hide something, it probably couldn't be more obvious if it were lit up on a Broadway marquee. "We're not going to talk, then?"

The jacket slips from Luke's fingers as Noah pulls the chair aside and sits down. He doesn't get on the floor in front of Luke like he has been. And Luke doubts that even fully functioning nerves would register a grasp as light as Noah's seems on his legs.

At least he meets Luke's eyes. "Sure, we'll talk. We are talking. We're just --"

"Repressing? Avoiding? Buying ourselves adjacent, not overlapping property in Egypt?" Luke supplies.

"Putting some topics on hold," Noah finishes.

The temptation to push is hard to resist. Sighing, Luke shifts that effort to his exercises. "Fine. I haven't been outside yet today; how's the weather?"

Noah grins while he helps maneuver Luke's calf in small loops. He jokingly chides Luke for being lazy, but describes it anyway: the leaves crunching under his feet on the campus sidewalks, the grey sky streaked by clouds, the cooling air at the edge of a graveyard that made him think of Luke's ghost story.

None of it is quite what Luke wants to hear. He can see how happy Noah is to be there sharing his day, though, and that's a start.

~*~*~

The "start" lasts a while.

Impending finals mean they both have a lot of class work to do. They make an unspoken agreement -- despite how much Luke can't stand the idea of unspoken things at this point -- to spend only a few afternoons per week hanging out, studying quietly, and working on Luke's therapy together. They talk on the phone almost daily, but early in the evening and completely G-rated every time.

Luke keeps one more thing from Noah, and his family. At the hospital, Burt has Luke use parallel bars to try walking. A couple weeks of practice brings him up to traveling eight narrow, shuffled steps forward and back. For the pivot at the ends, he has to swing his arms wildly to switch bars. It makes him feel like a monkey. He learns quickly that Burt's sense of humor doesn't include an appreciation of whooping and one-fisted chest-pounding.

Sometimes Luke gets to slog his way across a small PT pool instead, but mostly it's the bars and the wacky, caged monkey with his singsong internal monologue. _Oh, oobee doo, I wanna be like you. I wanna walk like you, talk like you, too._

Home is a different beast. Luke is able to walk through the farmhouse or outside it but has to use a cane. It makes him feel ancient, like a big, drooling dinosaur clumping around. Roaring a lot is in his nature. He tries to keep that, and the sight of himself with the cane, from everyone, especially Noah.

~*~*~

Luke is grumbling at the refrigerator, one hand balanced on the door and the other clawing at food options, when Noah arrives unexpectedly one day. It's the middle of what should have been Noah's Wednesday chemistry final.

"What's up? Why aren't you in chem?" Luke darts a glance toward his wheelchair on the other side of the table. He keeps the fridge door between Noah and him, hiding his cane.

Still in the doorway, Noah smiles. "Hello, I'm glad to see you, too. There was a gas leak in the lab. The building is closed for the rest of the day, and Dr. Teppum said he'd e-mail everyone about a make-up session."

"Oh. That's cool." Luke hasn't left the fridge.

"You're going to get pretty cold just standing there." Noah's eyes alight suddenly. "Wait. How long _have_ you been standing there?"

Luke really doesn't want to see that light go out. He turns from Noah while he shifts sideways with the cane and closes the refrigerator, its bulb clicking off as a note of mockery. He sighs, "I'm not."

The weight of Noah's gaze follows him pacing his way to the table. Noah reaches the table soon enough to pull out the wheelchair and a kitchen chair for himself. "Why didn't you tell me you were using a cane?"

"I guess . . . I figured it might be better that you think I still needed the wheelchair." He drops into it like a rag doll.

Noah's face scrunches. "But why? I want you free of that thing as much or more than anyone else does."

"I know. You've practically been kicking my ass out of it during therapy." Luke cups Noah's cheek. "It's just . . . the chair, it gives us both lower expectations while I'm not back at full capability. Less room for disappointment."

"That doesn't make any sense. How could either of us be disappointed that you're making progress?"

"Because it's still happening so slowly." He says it matter-of-factly, not whining. "And I didn't want you seeing me halfway like this -- halfway upright, halfway back to being a man."

Noah shakes his head and clasps Luke's hands in his own. "You've never stopped. You're the best man I know."

"Oh, yeah?" Luke stares, from Noah's face down to their hands. "Then how come you only hold my hand, and we haven't kissed for weeks? We barely touch. That can't be enough for you."

"Maybe it can be."

Acidity bites the inside of Luke's throat. He yanks his hands free. "Don't you dare."

"What?" Noah asks, eyebrows furrowed.

"You sound exactly the way you did when you kept saying you could make things work with Maddie." Fumbling to his feet and leaning on the cane feels like shoving the last brick of a wall into place from the wrong side. He looks over his shoulder at Noah. "Don't you dare lie and settle for me like that. She deserved better then, and you and I both deserve better now."

"Luke." Noah stands easily and grabs Luke's hips from behind. "I'm not lying or settling. I want you, more than anything, however I can get you, and you damn well better keep up your therapy so I can have you."

"You've got me -- what there is of me," Luke says, a little sarcastically, but he can't help it.

"No, I mean, _have_ you." Encircling Luke's waist with his arms, Noah spoons up against him.

Luke tenses. He closes his eyes and tries not to lean, but Noah tugs him so close, Luke might as well be wearing Noah's sweatshirt over his own chest.

"Believe I want to be with you. Trust how I feel about you."

 _Even though you won't really say it?_

Noah just holds on tightly, his palms framing Luke's pelvis, his chest warm and solid, his soft breath misting Luke's neck, and his hips and thighs keeping Luke from falling in nearly every way that matters.

When Luke finally lets himself go, Noah still holds him.

The cane clatters against the edge of the table and onto the floor. Noah gently pushes his left foot forward, guiding Luke's with it. The stretch pulls new muscles in his lower body against Noah's. Luke sucks in a breath between his teeth.

It whistles out as Noah's lips graze the tendons of his throat. Luke closes his hands around Noah's forearms. "What are you doing?"

"Touching you," Noah says into Luke's ear and bites his lobe. "Making progress with you."

"More like making a move. Don't stop." They take another step, and another, circling the table, Luke testing his footing like an explorer crossing a frozen lake. The ground doesn't crack open beneath him.

He does wobble when Noah's hands drag inward, across his abdomen. Shivering at the light pressure, he turns and raises his eyebrows.

Noah gives him a wide smile full of mischief. Luke doesn't think or even breathe before tilting his head, licking his way into that mouth with such wicked potential.

Soon they both need to sit down.

Their timing is good in the sense that they break for air before Luke's dad comes home, but lousy in that their conversation is cut short.

"Hey, Mr. Snyder. We were -- I had some research to do with Luke, but I was just leaving." Noah stands, zipping, unzipping, and re-zipping his sweatshirt. "So, Luke, we'll do more research next time, right?"

Luke winks and rubs his thumb against the edge of his mouth. "Absolutely. The project requires lots of additional study."

~*~*~

At two-fifteen a.m., Luke flails around through the first three rings before his fingers brush his phone. One hand on the headboard, he hauls himself over to answer without bothering to read the display. "Hello?"

"Wanted to what?"

"I'm sorry?" Luke mumbles, trying to wake more fully.

"Don't apologize. Just finish what you started. When you were in my arms, what did you want to do?" Noah asks, quiet, like he hasn't thought of anything else for hours.

 _Not on hold anymore, I guess._ Shifting upright against his pillow, Luke reminds his sleep-deprived self that Noah is in a dorm room with thin walls, and Luke's own bedroom isn't completely soundproof. He has an urge to make Noah get loud enough that guys next door cheer him on anyway.

He props the phone on his shoulder again. "After we went swimming at the farm that first time, when we were fighting over the towel and you slid onto me --"

"And you caught me."

"And we were both still wet, but your body was so warm. . . ." Luke waits for another interruption. When it doesn't come, he continues. "Your hips fit right against mine. Your breath on my face, your arms around me, your eyes looking into mine . . . I was getting so hard, I thought you had to feel it."

The hitch in Noah's breathing over the line trips the beat of Luke's heart.

"Could you feel me getting hard, Noah?"

It's almost inaudible. "Yes."

Luke has trouble making his mouth work. "Are you -- are you getting hard now?"

"What did you want to do that day?"

Running a hand through his hair, Luke lets Noah get away with the redirect, for the time being. "All kinds of things, but I started imagining how it would feel if I were rubbing up against you."

Noah's groan is muffled, half-swallowed.

"You would keep looking at me with all that naked want, and I wouldn't be able to resist kissing you. I'd lean that little bit further into you and finally get your lips on mine. And it would've been just like our real first kiss, surprising and right."

"Luke, I --"

"Stay with me, Noah. Feel what it's like when we kiss, what it was like this afternoon. You would keep kissing me, teasing me with your tongue. Daring me to take the next step. I would run my fingers up and down your chest, then under the waistband of those swim trunks you borrowed. Then I would trace the little indentations from the elastic, every one, all the way around your hips, like I was unzipping you. You would keep watching my face, Noah. You'd want to look down and see what I was doing, but I'd know you were still afraid. So, I would hold your gaze while I pushed down your shorts, right there in the kitchen."

"Oh, God." Something rustles on Noah's end of the phone, like a curtain being drawn. Like clothing being adjusted.

Luke clenches his hands around the blankets covering him. To reassure himself as much as Noah, he says, "We wouldn't get interrupted this time. Once I stripped off my trunks, too, I would slide a little ways down your body. Skin to skin."

He takes a moment to savor that idea, so clear in his mind. It crystallizes, sweet and salty and sharp.

"And I would lick your chest, those gorgeous pecs tensing because my mouth feels so good just exploring, finding out how you taste. All the stray drops of water streaming down your body would melt on my tongue, like you were part of me already. Just before my knees hit the ground, I would stand up again. I'd stroke your arms and hold on, for leverage. You'd lift me onto the edge of the counter, and I would wrap my legs around you. Then . . . "

"What?" Noah asks, his voice thick and heated like syrup that Luke wants to coat his whole body.

He knows, just _knows_ now, but has to ask again anyway. "Are you hard for me?"

"Lu-u-u-uke." His name has gained three new syllables and two new pitches.

His body tries to react, and, in his mind, there are all kinds of fireworks, but his dick isn't keeping up with the show. Luke twists the blankets and pushes them away. "Please. I really need to hear it."

"You know I am."

"What?"

"I'm hard. Okay?" He doesn't sound angry. He sounds worried Luke is going to scold him.

Luke releases a slow breath. "That's good. That's really good."

"Good," Noah repeats. "Keep going."

Luke pretends for a second that he's just typing this fantasy into his laptop.

Instead of the keyboard, he hears the soft sounds of Noah's throat clearing and what has to be Noah's fist, wet and pumping -- _fuck, fuck, fuck_ \-- "Your cock. My ankles would be locked behind your waist, my hands behind your neck, and my cock with yours, both of us hard."

"Yeah." Noah's voice, low and twisting, plies Luke's tongue further.

"I'd arch my back while you moved, put your hand on me -- God, I want your hand on me -- feeling my cock for the first time. I'd touch you, too, rub our cocks together. I'd rub against every part of you I could reach."

The fast, meaty noises from the phone are getting louder, Noah's breath coming faster. "Do it, Luke."

Luke smacks his palms against the bed. If he doesn't touch himself, he can keep pretending, mind over matter, even if his mind is _killing_ him.

Those sounds on the other end stutter. "Luke?"

More exhalation than verbalization, it's all Luke needs. "My fingers are still wet from the pond, but with all the friction, my grip is warm while I'm pumping us together. It's new to us both, the heat of somebody else's cock right there with yours, making you harder. You keep driving your hips into me. And now you make yourself look down. We both watch my hand slip up and down, your cock and mine pushing through my fist, thick and fast. You're holding onto my waist; I know you've got me. So, I use both hands."

Luke describes what he's hearing now as soon as the words form.

"Slick. Rough. Hard . . . we're both hard, and you can see and feel my hands pulling, stroking, my thumbs curving over the heads of our cocks, and we're kissing again, and you're groaning -- yeah, like that, fuck. You're so hot, Noah. I love hearing you so close, having your cock in my hands and next to mine when you come. Because I know you're about to come for me."

A soft whine slides into Luke's ear, and it's so . . . The need emanating from Noah has Luke scratching his thighs and relishing the slightest sharp tingle.

"Go ahead, Noah. I want you to come. Come all over my hands. Make me feel it."

The way Noah yells when he comes is an exultant rush of air that rides a few notes up the register and pours warmth into Luke's chest. It bows his shoulders back into the pillows and forces a whimper from his own throat. And, so briefly as to be only wishful thinking, it makes his cock twitch -- makes him feel it.

Noah eventually turns his panting into words. "Hell, Luke. Maybe I shouldn't have you write screenplays for me. I'll wind up making all adult films."

Laughter snaps the tension in Luke's body. He sags into the pillow smiling. "I could get on board for that, if you'll direct yourself as the star."

The rumble of Noah's laugh is tipped with heat. "Don't count on it."

"I bet I can wear you down." Trying not to disturb Noah's satisfaction with further discussion, Luke says gently, "And speaking of worn down, I'm beat. See you Friday?"

"Definitely" fractures around a yawn. "Goodnight, Luke."

"'Night, Noah."

Luke's dreams are unsubtle and exasperating, but sweet.

~*~*~

When Noah gets to the farmhouse on Friday, he strides to the table without a word, grabs Luke's collar, and hauls him up into a kiss. Noah's lips, dry and cool from the wind, part just enough to give Luke a hint at the warm wetness beyond. Then he pulls back.

Blinking, Luke leans against the edge of the table. He accidentally knocks a bunch of pages from take-home exams across the table's surface, but his laptop and phone survive the bump. "Uh. Wow. I don't think I heard you the first time. Could you repeat that?"

"No." Noah stalks several feet across the room, where he throws a challenging look at Luke. "Not until you come over here."

"Now, that's just mean, teasing a wounded guy," Luke scolds, hefting the cane and waving it at Noah, but his grin is breaking free. He puts as little weight as he can stand on the cane while he starts to move.

"I'll make it up to you."

"Slow and steady wins the race?" Luke keeps his eyes on the prize.

Noah props his hands on his hips. "There is no race. Just you, and me."

"Well, in that case," Luke says and pushes himself to make the next steps bigger.

He reaches Noah without a fall, without even stumbling. His own pride is reflected on Noah's face.

After their kiss, short and sweet, Luke shakes his head. "You think you're so clever."

"Actually, I think I'm lucky I can manage any coherent thought, since the other night." Noah runs his hands down Luke's back before stepping away again.

Luke moves to the new position and gets another soft kiss. "I wondered if you would bring that up. Are you still okay with it?"

"Hmm." Noah walks across the room until his back is against the wall. "Once you get here, I'll show you."

The journey takes forever, but Luke doesn't care. The kiss he gets in reward is not short or soft or even sweet.

This kiss could have gone even longer, except Luke would have trouble staying on his feet. As it is, he's grasping Noah's shoulders and fighting for breath. The cane fell somewhere. Noah's eyes are hot on his, Noah's mouth still close enough for Luke's tongue to sweep across it when he licks his own lips. Humming, Noah kisses him again, his palms sliding down to brace Luke's chest. Luke bites Noah's lip in surprise and feels Noah stiffen against him.

 _I can feel that. I can feel **Noah**. Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God._ Luke stares at him. "Noah."

But Noah is blushing. "I know, sorry. I -- wait. You?"

"A little, yeah." Shifting his hips, Luke lines them up. He staggers with the faint rush of blood from his head to his dick, and they both almost fall.

"Fuck." Noah clutches Luke's waist. "Just. Don't move for a second."

"Fine with me," Luke says, and drops his forehead onto Noah's shoulder.

It's about eighty times hotter than his fantasy already, and they're not even naked.

Quashing that thought before his neural pathways liquefy, Luke breathes in the smell of burning leaves and half-melted snow and sweat and his sexy, aroused boyfriend.

He knows, because he's counting in his head with each breath, that it takes four long, full seconds for Noah to break the no-movement rule. To turn his head and blow against Luke's neck. To swipe his tongue along Luke's jaw. To hold Luke in place while he rolls his own hips like something out of _Dirty Dancing_.

It's awkward, the angles of hard muscle and bones that neither of them is quite used to yet, and it's sexy for the same reason, and it's funny because now he can't help thinking . . . Luke snickers into the hair behind Noah's ear.

"What?"

"'Nobody puts Baby in a corner,'" he says. He traps another snicker by biting Noah's shoulder through his shirt.

Noah laughs, too, but it's a little strangled, and he twitches against Luke.

The realization clicks then: Noah keeps reacting to the feel of Luke's teeth.

Luke bites harder. Noah's fingers shift, splaying over Luke's ass with branding heat. Luke reaches up to yank open the top buttons of Noah's collar so he can get to skin. Noah cocks his head to the right, quietly submissive. He watches Luke, his hands tightening.

"You're kind of kinky, Noah Mayer." Luke chuckles, lower and more darkly than he's heard himself before.

Noah's head jerks forward, but Luke slides his right hand into Noah's hair, presses down to bare the line of his neck again. Luke just holds him there for a moment. Noah's chest rises and falls more quickly, puffing out muted gasps, while Luke exhales one long sigh after another.

Without warning, Luke scrapes his teeth over the corded juncture of neck and shoulder.

Noah's sharply drawn breath sends a tremor through his whole body. Eyes shuttered, he stays completely still, except for his cock poking Luke's hip.

Luke opens and closes his mouth, caressing, dampening the warm flesh under his lips, sucking and stroking with his tongue. When he bites again, Noah writhes against him.

Shaking, Luke leans back, still in Noah's arms. Luke brushes Noah's closed eyelids with his fingertips. "Hey."

His lips pursed, pupils blown wide with desire, Noah looks at Luke. "Hey."

It's the same hot syrup tone Noah used on the phone that night. Luke wants to kiss him so hard they both drown. His gaze drifts between Noah's mouth and shoulder, the flushed skin glistening in each place Luke has tasted. _I did that,_ he thinks. Then, when he focuses on the clock beyond Noah, _Damn it._

"Crap. We can't take this any further," Luke says.

"Why? Aren't you -- are you not feeling it anymore?" Noah drops his arms as though Luke has just burst into flames. He stares at the floor and tugs his shirt collar. "Shit, I pushed too hard, didn't I? I thought you wanted to, but I pushed you, and freaked you out with --"

"Noah." Luke's energy is fading fast. _So much for the erection, too. **Damn.**_ He props one hand on the wall and lifts the other to cover Noah's mouth. "You didn't push me anywhere I didn't want to go. When you push me, it's a good thing. And as for freaking me out? Far from it. It's a pretty safe bet that whatever turns you on will do the same for me."

Noah's eyes widen, his eyebrows lifting. His tongue flicks Luke's palm. Luke moves his hand so his fingers press Noah's lips, and Noah opens his mouth to suck the tips and sink in his teeth.

Keeping his eyes on Noah's, Luke lets out a soft moan. "Yeah, that definitely does it."

His fingers slip from Noah's mouth as it spreads into a grin, and Noah reaches for him again. "Okay, so, what's the problem?"

Luke swats his hands away gently and points at the clock. "My sisters get home from school in less than ten minutes."

"Damn."

"Uh-huh."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Not even slightly." Luke glances below Noah's waist. He has to force his eyes back upward. "But you probably should."

Noah's cheeks color as he smiles. "I guess you're right."

He collects Luke's cane from under the table and puts it in Luke's hands. Luke takes it but curls his wet fingers around Noah's wrist. "I really, really want to continue this conversation. Somewhere more private."

Swallowing, Noah leans down, touching his mouth to Luke's for the barest second before he heads for the door. He nods toward the table as he passes and says, "Keep that with you."

Luke frowns until he remembers what's on the table. Once there, he tucks it into his pocket so he doesn't forget.

Then he tries to figure out how he's going to focus on his exams -- or anything else -- for the next several hours.

~*~*~

The phone is in Luke's hands as he gets into bed sometime after eleven. He can't get anywhere close to sleep, just lies there pressing random buttons to make the display light up and his eyes glaze over, while the house floats into silence around him.

By twelve-forty-five, the buttons change from randomness to Noah's number over and over, and every digit looks pornographic. Luke's thumb has been hovering at Send for three minutes by twelve-fifty-six, when Noah calls.

Luke snorts, relieved. "Hi. You're early."

"Hi back. I didn't realize I had to stick to a schedule." Noah's voice deepens. "Besides, I couldn't wait a whole other hour. Could you?"

"God, no. I was about to call you. After this afternoon, all I could think about was --"

"Let me."

"Let you what?"

Slowly, Noah says, "I know I'm not good with words like you, Luke."

"You are, actually. You can make the simplest things sound like magic, when you're interested enough." Luke thinks of the look in Noah's eyes when he tries to bring a memory alive for Luke. "Like when you talk about movies and comic books. When you're telling me about the world you see in them. I feel like I'm there with you."

Noah huffs in laughter. "This would be more of a _graphic_ novel than I usually read, let alone describe for anyone else."

"Well --"

"But I want to try. It's my turn. Let me try."

"Okay."

For a few seconds, Noah says nothing, then, in a rush, "I want to put my mouth on you."

Luke takes a deep breath, letting it out as audibly as he can to encourage Noah. "Where?"

"Everywhere." Noah's urgency makes it clear this isn't a cop-out. It's the truth, unconditional.

"I'm glad." Luke clears his throat and tries not to sound so much like a twelve year-old girl. "Starting anywhere specific?"

"The same as I did today. Your lips. We're in my room, and I'm kissing you."

"Kissing is good."

"It's really good. It's like dreaming in Technicolor, except that when you, uh -- when I slip in my tongue and you pinch my nipple through my shirt, I don't wake up. Your mouth, open for me, and the bright spark you set off, it's all so real. Luke?"

"Yeah?" he says, breathy from the lack of oxygen going to his brain.

"Tell me you're touching yourself."

"I . . . " Tucking the phone against his shoulder, Luke rests his hands on his stomach and slides them both up his chest. He imagines closing his fingers over Noah's nipples this way. "I'm not. I'm touching you. Like you said -- pinching. What else am I doing?"

"You're getting hard. Aren't you." Not asking, not waiting for an answer, because Noah has already learned this. "Just from my mouth, my hands on your waist and your ass, my clothed body against you, you're getting hard."

Luke twists, his fingers and his hips. "You, too."

"Both of us. But I'm not doing anything about it yet."

"What?" He starts to sit up.

"First I'm going to make you come, Luke. I'm going to suck you off, and you're going to come hard."

He presses the heel of his left hand down, hard, against his cock and mangles whatever word he was trying to say in response.

"I want to push you up against the door of my room. I'll kiss you until you can't breathe, and then kiss you again because it makes me so hot. I unbutton your shirt and take it off, then your jeans and socks and shoes. I don't let myself do it quickly. I'm going to watch every inch being exposed, and I'll leave your boxers on."

Luke hooks his fingers under his T-shirt collar and yanks, afraid to miss anything Noah says by taking his time getting it over his head. He ditches his cotton pajama pants as well, with a little more effort.

"Looking at you is amazing. When you're sitting, when you're standing, when you're just smiling, you turn me on."

There's something more than heat under the words, something -- something so honest, but Luke can't focus on it before Noah speaks again, this time with nothing but heat.

"Your cock is hard, pushing through your boxers. I can only handle looking for so long without touching. I get out of my own clothes fast." The same rustling sound from before comes across clearly. "Then I get on my knees and pull your cock out the gap of your boxers."

" _Finally._ " Luke follows Noah's direction and only realizes he has said the word out loud when Noah groans.

"That's it," Noah says. "You thrust into my hand, and I let you. I get to keep watching, to see your cock sliding through my fingers and feel how hard you are."

His hand tightens as he moves.

"But it's not enough. I still want my mouth on you. I hold you against the wall with my right hand on your hip."

His right hand pushes down.

"With my left, I . . . "

Clenching his jaw until there are stars behind his eyes, Luke actually has to fight to keep his spine from arching. He whimpers.

"I fist your cock, and I lean in and lick the head. You're dripping. It's --" The wet noise over the phone can't be but -- _oh, fuck,_ \-- has to be Noah sucking his own fingers. "It's salty and warm."

"Jesus, fuck." Luke licks his palm in hurried swipes.

"I like it. I'm licking more, sealing my mouth over the head and sucking. You feel how hot and wet it is on you, and you push in, and, God, I want it. Want you stretching my lips."

Biting the knuckles of his right hand, Luke grabs his cock at the base so he doesn't shoot right then. He can't hold still, even when he tries to pin his hips down again. He jacks himself with swift, slick pulls.

"You keep pushing, and I have to loosen my hand, have to let you in. I can't take it all yet, but my mouth is so full. You feel my tongue, the edges of my teeth." Noah's voice is ragged, catching on every few words. "I'm sucking you as hard as I can, swallowing around you. You're tangling your fingers in my hair, and I'm looking up at you, and you're trying not to move when you look down at me. But when you see my eyes, see how fucking sexy I think you are with your cock on my tongue, you have to thrust."

"Noah. Noah." It turns into a chant while Luke drives into wet heat. "Noah, Noah, Noah."

"I'm finally letting go of your hip, because I'm so hard, I can't not touch myself. I jerk myself off while you're -- you're fucking my mouth."

The world is narrowing into a funnel of almost painful ecstasy. It swirls more tightly and vividly with the noises Noah makes, fleshy and slippery and scorching. Luke sucks his fingers into his mouth and bites down the way Noah did, and pumps his cock, matching Noah's sounds.

"So good, Luke," Noah moans. "Oh, man, it's so good. You feel so good, taste so good. I need to taste you, need you _now_."

Luke shoves his fist between his teeth as he cries out, arching against the bed. He spills over his hand and keeps thrusting through Noah's answering shout. He keeps thrusting until all he can hear is Noah breathing heavily into the phone.

He reaches for a tissue to wipe the come from his stomach and tosses it in the trashcan next to his bed, then readjusts the phone at his ear. He mumbles Noah's name.

"Mhmm."

"I told you."

"Told me what?" Noah's pleasure makes Luke wish he could get it up -- or move at all -- again right now.

For the first time in weeks, he's feeling a good, well-used kind of immobility. He smiles. "I was right there with you."

"Next time, you really will be," Noah says. They hang up with the promise.

~*~*~

Saturday morning, maybe five minutes after he wakes, someone knocks at Luke's door. Pale winter sunlight paints the room in shadow. Rubbing his eyes, he rolls over, his muscles straining.

"Come in," he calls, and rubs his eyes again once the door opens.

When Luke takes another look, Noah is still there, except closer to the bed. He strokes Luke's cheek. "Good morning."

Luke folds his hand over Noah's, warm and real. "Morning. How did you get in?"

"Your dad has already gone out to work with the horses, so, the door was unlocked. I don't think anyone saw me."

"Oh. Okay. Do you want to lie down?" Luke's jaw pops as he yawns. He ducks his head. "Just to sleep a while longer, I mean."

"It's still my turn," Noah says.

"It is?" Luke watches Noah cautiously kneel. His heart kicks around the inside of his chest.

"For this, it is." Noah watches him back. "I love you."

Rolling his eyes, Luke grins to cover his swallowing past the tightness in his throat. "Is that all? I already knew that."

Noah bites the edge of his own quirking lip. "You did, huh?"

"Yes. You told me on the phone. So, now, it's my turn." He threads his fingers through Noah's hair and kisses him, and there's nothing else to say.

  


\- end - 

  



End file.
